Along Came Trouble

by Sherryl Woods

  “And after you found him, what did you do?”

  “I panicked,” she said. “I knew what people would think, so I went looking for Tucker. I knew he’d know how to handle it.”

  “Why didn’t you just call him?”

  The memory of the moment when she’d realized that Larry had been shot, that he was indeed dead, came flooding back over her. Tears stung her eyes at the senseless waste of a life.

  “I…” She swallowed hard. “I couldn’t stay here. Not for another minute.”

  “Because?”

  She scowled at his lack of sensitivity. “Because my husband was dead, Deputy Ames. He’d been murdered. I couldn’t bear seeing him like that. And for all I knew the person who’d done it was still around here somewhere.”

  “So you still had feelings for him, even though you intended to divorce him?”

  “Of course I did. I had loved Larry Chandler with all my heart. Just because our marriage hadn’t worked didn’t mean that I wanted him dead or even that I didn’t still care about him. In many ways, he was a wonderful man. He just wasn’t a very good husband.”

  “Meaning?”

  She glanced at Powell and saw his nod. “Meaning that he was unfaithful.”

  “He had an affair?”

  “There were affairs,” she confirmed. “I lost count.”

  “Did they end badly?”

  “You’d have to ask the women that.”

  “Names?”

  “I can give you those I knew about,” she said wearily. “I’ll make a list. I can’t swear it’ll be complete.”

  “What about political enemies? Did he have them?”

  “Of course.”

  “Business problems?”

  “None that I’m aware of.”

  “Is there anyone you can think of who would have reason to want your husband dead?”

  She told him about the veiled, anonymous threats. “I believe the notes and answering machine tapes with the messages are in the safe. I can get them for you.”

  Walker nodded. “Let’s do that, then.”

  He followed her into the library, watched as she pressed a button and a panel of bookshelves swung away from the wall. Behind it was a safe originally installed by her grandfather. She turned the lock, then stepped aside.

  Donning gloves, Walker drew out jewelry boxes, packets of papers, then a box that contained the letters and tapes. He took that, placed it into an evidence bag, then returned everything else.

  “Have you had a chance to look around?” he asked. “Did you notice if anything is missing?”

  “I only came through the foyer and into this room last night. I went out the same way.”

  “Then let’s take a look around. Are there other valuables beyond what’s in the safe?”

  “I keep a few pieces of jewelry in my room. There’s silver that’s kept in the pantry.”

  Liz led the way upstairs. She knew it would be evident when they walked into her room that she hadn’t shared it with Larry. There were no masculine belongings, just antique perfume bottles and cosmetics on the dressing table, gowns in one closet, her suits and casual clothes in another. The carpet and iron bed were white, the comforter white with sprigs of violets. Gauzy white curtains billowed at the open windows. It was a very feminine room and not nearly as large as the master suite down the hall. It had suited her as a girl, and she had retreated to it when she no longer wanted to share a bed with her unfaithful husband.

  Walker surveyed the room without comment, waiting while she checked her jewelry box.

  “Everything is here,” she said when she’d counted the few pieces of antique jewelry that had sentimental value to her. The far more expensive treasures, the ones Larry had lavished on her after each affair, were in the safe downstairs. Those, too, had been accounted for—not that she’d cared.

  “Let’s see if the silver’s where it’s supposed to be,” Walker said.

  “It’ll be closer if we take the back stairway,” Liz told him. It was the way she’d slipped downstairs in the middle of the night for cookies as a girl, the way she’d sneaked outside to meet Tucker as a teenager. Even now she almost expected to find him waiting for her just outside the kitchen door.

  He wasn’t.

  Every piece of silver, much of it from famed English silvermakers of the eighteenth century and earlier, was exactly where it belonged, gleaming on the padded shelves of a special silver closet in the pantry. As a girl, Liz had been awed by the display. She’d even liked the rainy afternoons when she’d sat at the table helping the housekeeper polish every piece. She’d loved imagining tea being poured from this very service by some distant ancestor in London hundreds of years before. She’d read every book in her grandfather’s library about the gracious way of life from which she was descended.

  Dreaming about a bygone era was a far cry, however, from wanting to live in it. She had balked at the old-fashioned constraints her grandfather had placed on her, stolen every opportunity to break free so that she could follow Tucker on his adventures. He had given her back the childhood that the tragic death of her parents had stolen.

  Tucker would have given her the world if she’d let him. But Larry had come along with his charm and his prospects. Her grandfather, one of Larry’s staunchest political supporters, had encouraged the two of them to spend time together. He’d believed they shared the same ideals. After several lengthy conversations, Liz had come to believe it, too.

  For her, those talks had been intellectually stimulating, nothing more. Spending time with Larry had been the first thing she’d ever done of which her grandfather had totally approved.

  Later that had been a huge incentive to say yes when Larry had proposed, that and the promise of the fairy-tale wedding of which every girl dreamed.

  “Mrs. Chandler?”

  She snapped her attention back to Walker Ames.

  “Is all of the silver here?”

  She nodded.

  “Okay, then, unless you discover something missing, I think we can safely rule out robbery as a motive. I’d appreciate that list of names as soon as possible.”

  “I’ll do it this afternoon,” she said.

  “Good. Where can I pick it up?”

  She was startled by the question. “I can’t stay here?”

  “Not for the time being,” he said. “Once we’re sure all the evidence had been gathered, we’ll release it, and you can move back in.”

  “Will I be able to take a few of my things?”

  “Of course. I’ll wait while you get them, then I can drive you wherever you’d like to go.”

  “I came with Tucker. I’m sure he can take me…someplace.”

  The deputy looked as though he disapproved, but he said only, “I’ll check with him while you pack. I can have one of the deputies go up with you.”

  “That’s not necessary,” she began, but then she saw the look on his face and sighed. “That will be fine.”

  When Walker had gone off in search of someone to accompany her upstairs, Powell tucked a finger under her chin. “You did just fine. I need to get back to Richmond. Will you be okay?”

  “Sure.”

  “If they call you in for more questioning, don’t go until you contact me. Understood?”

  “Yes.”

  “And I’ll want to see whatever paperwork you give the police. Make me a copy of those lists and fax it down.” He handed her his business card. “The number’s on here.”

  “Thanks for coming, Powell.”

  “No problem.” He gazed into her eyes. “One last piece of advice. Steer clear of Tucker. I know you trust him, but his loyalties are bound to be divided.”

  “Tucker would never do anything to hurt me,” she said with absolute confidence.

  Powell regarded her evenly. “He once thought the same about you.”

  Liz shuddered, despite her conviction that Tucker would always be on her side. Was it possible that he would turn his back on her just when she n
eeded him the most? And how could she blame him if he did?

  5

  There was some sort of uproar over at Swan Ridge. King spotted the commotion on his way back to Cedar Hill. There were police cars and media vans everywhere, plainly visible from the highway. Probably another one of Lawrence Chandler’s press conferences, King concluded. And he’d probably hired all the local off-duty cops to work security. The man did like all the trappings of celebrity.

  King was tempted to venture onto the grounds and see for himself what Chandler was up to, but the prospect of bumping into Mary Elizabeth kept him away. He hadn’t been able to look the woman in the face without getting riled up since she’d gone and broken Tucker’s heart. If it had been up to him, she’d have been chased out of the county, but, sadly, the law wouldn’t permit him to run her off. Tucker had explained that on more than one occasion when King had expressed the view that her presence was a blight on the community.

  So, instead of going on up to Swan Ridge, King drove on, only to find a bit of commotion at his place, as well. His daughter was pacing back and forth across the veranda with some sort of bee in her bonnet. The instant she spotted him, she came flying down the steps and all but tore the door off the car and dragged him out.

  “Have you seen the news?” Daisy demanded.

  “Where would I see it?” King inquired testily. “I’ve been in town all morning.”

  “And nobody said anything?” she said incredulously. “I can’t believe it! For once, the gossip hot line in Trinity Harbor is actually running behind the TV news.”

  “Slow down, girl. Take a deep breath. I’ll get us both a glass of iced tea, and you can tell me what’s got you all hot and bothered.”

  “There’s no time for that,” she said, shoving him right back toward his car.

  “Will you make up your mind?” he grumbled. “Am I going or staying?”

  “As soon as I tell you, you’re going,” she said fiercely. “And I’m coming with you.”

  “Where?” he asked suspiciously. He hadn’t seen her this het up since the night she thought Walker and Tommy were in danger from a gang of drug dealers. To Tucker’s dismay, she’d come to the marina armed with a shotgun and a full head of steam, prepared to take on anybody so much as considering harming the two people she loved.

  “To Swan Ridge.”

  “I saw all the commotion. What’s going on over there?”

  “Somebody murdered Larry Chandler,” Daisy announced. “And Mary Elizabeth has gone and dragged Tucker right into the middle of it.”

  This time, it didn’t take any effort on Daisy’s part to get King to sit down. His knees felt so weak, he reached behind him and sank onto the driver’s seat in the car. “Chandler’s dead? You’re sure?” He’d never much liked the politician, especially for his part in hurting Tucker, but the thought of someone killing him right here in Trinity Harbor was enough to make his blood run cold.

  “It’s all over the Richmond news,” Daisy said, then scowled. “And that woman is going to break Tucker’s heart all over again. I just know she is.”

  “Tucker’s smarter than that,” King insisted.

  “Is he really?” she scoffed. “Then why was I taking clothes over to his place at the crack of dawn this morning so that Mary Elizabeth could get dressed?”

  King stared at her incredulously. “What the devil are you talking about?”

  “Can’t I explain all this while we drive to Swan Ridge?” Daisy pleaded.

  “No,” King snapped. “I want the whole story right here, where I can digest it without running off the road.”

  Daisy described her early morning mercy mission to Tucker’s place. “I wasn’t going to tell you. In fact, I promised Tucker I wouldn’t say a word to anyone, but things have changed now.”

  “Did you actually see her?” King demanded.

  “No, but she was there. Her car was out front, and Tucker didn’t deny it when I accused him of letting her back into his life. He just hustled me right back out the door and told me to mind my own business.” She practically shook with indignation. “As if this isn’t my business, when a member of my own family is about to get his reputation dragged through the mud.”

  Daisy was so furious and talking so fast, King was having a hard time keeping up with her. He seized on the first thing that had stuck in his mind. “Why the devil would a woman like that want your clothes?” He looked over the jeans and T-shirt Daisy was wearing. Straight from the discount store, no doubt about it. “I hate to say it, but you two never have shopped in the same boutiques. No offense.”

  Daisy glared at him but didn’t debate the point. “If I had to guess, I’d say it’s because she’d arrived there covered in her husband’s blood,” she said furiously. “Wouldn’t that be just like her?”

  “Good Lord,” King whispered, seeing all his hopes and dreams for Tucker’s future going up in smoke. Who’d marry a man who’d been consorting with a murderess? His future as sheriff would be reduced to ashes, as well.

  He glanced over at Daisy. “Get out.”

  “I’m going with you.”

  “No, you’re not. I’ll handle this,” he said grimly. “You go home and see what information you can pry out of that husband of yours. He’s bound to know all the particulars. I’ll check with you later, after I’ve tracked down Tucker and given him a piece of my mind.”

  “Don’t blame him. The woman’s a witch.”

  King almost grinned at that. “Don’t go saying that to your brother.”

  “Why not? It’s the truth. Look how she betrayed him—betrayed all of us, for that matter—years ago. Tucker needs to be reminded of that.”

  “I imagine he hasn’t forgotten, any more than you have. But if you start name-calling, he’ll just rush to her defense and this whole thing will get even more complicated than it already is.”

  She started to argue, then sighed. “You’re probably right. I’ll temper my remarks.” She regarded him worriedly. “Think you can do the same?”

  “Not bloody likely.” He fingered the jewelry box in his pocket and wondered if he’d ever get the chance to give it to Frances. He was supposed to be picking her up in less than an hour, and the odds of him getting Tucker’s life straightened out in that amount of time were slim to none.

  Well, Frances would just have to understand…again. He sighed heavily. Not bloody likely.

  Trying to stay in the background and out of the way of the forensics team was giving Tucker hives. He wasn’t used to sitting on the sidelines in his own blasted jurisdiction. He wanted to get into the library where Chandler had been shot. He knew Walker would eventually fill him in, let him look over all the reports, but that wasn’t the same as being on the crime scene.

  Despite his frustration, though, the instant Walker escorted Mary Elizabeth out of the house, all of Tucker’s attention was riveted on her. Her chin was held high. Her shoulders were squared proudly. But her eyes were dull, her complexion pale. He’d never once in the more than twenty years he’d known her seen her look so thoroughly dispirited.

  As they neared, she met his gaze, locking on his face as if it were the first friendly beacon she’d seen.

  “You okay?” Tucker asked, pushing aside his anger at that sneaky press conference she and Powell had called.

  She nodded, but her eyes welled with tears. She blinked frantically to try to keep them from spilling down her cheeks, but one escaped. Instinctively, Tucker gently rubbed it away with the pad of his thumb, then jerked away when he realized that Walker’s steady gaze was fixed on him.

  “Since she can’t stay here for the time being, Mrs. Chandler and I have been discussing where I’ll be able to find her if I need to talk to her again,” Walker said.

  “You can reach her through me,” Tucker said at once.

  “No,” Mary Elizabeth protested, even as Walker scowled disapprovingly. “I can’t ask you to do that.”

  “You didn’t ask,” Tucker pointed out. “I offered.
”

  “Can I speak to you privately?” Walker asked in a tone that suggested it wasn’t a request. He stepped a few feet away, assuming Tucker would follow. When Tucker joined him, he said, “Have you lost your mind?”

  “She needs a place to stay,” Tucker said with a defensive shrug. “Think of it as protective custody.”

  “It is a really, really bad idea,” Walker countered. “For reasons so numerous I can’t even begin to count them. Given your past history, you invite that woman into your home and I have to place you on the list of suspects right alongside her.”

  “Do what you have to do,” Tucker said, refusing to back down, no matter how black a picture Walker painted.

  “Dammit, Tucker, do you want Daisy to kill me?”

  “You’ll probably have to get in line. I imagine she’ll be coming after me first,” Tucker said wryly. “This won’t sit well with a lot of people.”

  “Then shouldn’t that be a clue it’s a mistake?”

  “I can’t let Mary Elizabeth go through this alone.”

  “I’m sure a woman in her position has friends,” Walker said.

  “Maybe so, but I’m the one she turned to.”

  “And precisely when was that? Last night, correct? Why exactly did it take so long for you to contact me?” Walker inquired. “What were the two of you doing all that time, getting reacquainted?”

  Tucker barely resisted the urge to slug his brother-in-law. He knew what Walker was trying to do. He was trying to show him just how ugly this could get. Tucker refused to take the bait. He understood the risks. He met Walker’s gaze.

  “Actually, she was sleeping,” Tucker said mildly. “I was in my kitchen pondering the funny twists and turns life takes.”

  “Was that before or after she told you about her husband?”

  “Before,” Tucker said, just as he’d explained it earlier. “As soon as she told me, I called you.”

  “Were you anywhere near Swan Ridge last night?” Walker pressed.

  “I patrolled the whole county,” Tucker told him. “Check my logbook and the mileage on the cruiser.”